


how bargains are made and forests are dreamt

by knightinbrightfeathers



Series: got a feeling most would treasure [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Body Horror, Cabeswater - Freeform, Demons, Dream Sharing, Fairy Tale Elements, Forests, Gen, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Magic, Minor Henry Cheng/Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Slow Burn, The Girl With No Hands, True Love's Kiss, Witches, always drag gansey's fashion choices, obscure fairytales ftw, weird made up magic rules because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: When his father sells him to a demon, Adam Parrish searches for a way out of the bargain. He ends up with strange and powerful magic, an affectionate but peculiar teacher, and dreams of a mysterious pain in the ass.





	how bargains are made and forests are dreamt

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works since October, and honestly, I am soooooo glad it's done. If I hadn't promised you guys Ronan in the previous fic in this series, I would never have finished this one.  
> This is partly based on Sleeping Beauty and partly on the odd and obscure The Girl With No Hands/The Girl With Silver Hands.  
> As always, thanks to rhien, without which this story would have been a lot shorter and would have had 90% less demon fighting.

Once upon a time, there was a man, and he sold his son to a demon.

This is not as odd as it sounds to you and me. In that place and in that time, many a parent was tricked into giving away their firstborn to a nixie or a wicked ol’ witch. And yet this case was different, for the man agreed to sell his son without any trickery on behalf of the demon. 

The demon had been ready to fool the man into selling him the thing which stood behind the house, but upon approaching the man, he saw that the man’s heart was worn down to nothing. If the demon had offered to take away his wife as well, he would have taken the deal, as long as he received gold from it.

But the demon did not want the man’s wife, only his son and the boy’s untapped potential. And so they agreed that the demon would come in one year’s time to take the boy.

The man came home, drunk on his success and on whiskey, and told his wife and his son about the deal. “So,” he said, waggling a finger at the boy, “mind you don’t damage the goods, boy!”

Now, the man’s wife was a grey, tired ghost of a woman, and she had no tears left in her, not even for her son’s fate. The boy, however, was a different creature altogether, and he had an entire year to plan. He asked the midwife, who lit sage and basil to erase the evil around him. He asked the priest, who prayed over the boy and shook his head in pity. He asked the village teacher, who dropped heavy books into the boy’s arms and hid him from his father. Nothing helped.

So, the day before the demon came to take him, the boy risked his father’s wrath and snuck out to the woods behind his house. He walked and walked until it was dark and cold, and then he sat between the roots of a tree and wept.

_ Child _ , whispered the tree.  _ Child, what is the evil that surrounds you? _

“My father sold me to a demon,” said the boy, who thought that he was dreaming.

_ Ah, that is a bad thing your father has done. _

“Will you help me?” asked the boy.

_ A deal is a deal, _ whispered the trees of the forest.  _ A deal is a deal is a deal. _

But the tree which had spoken first was the heart of the forest. It was the oldest and the wisest of them all, and it was afraid of what the demon would do with the magic living inside the boy.

_ I will help you, _ said the heart of the forest.  _ Take the earth from between my roots and draw a circle. If you stand within it, the demon will not be able to reach you. _

The boy thanked the forest.

_ And now you must return, _ said the heart of the forest, and the boy saw that it was near dawn, for forests are slow conversationalists. He filled his hands with earth and ran back home to draw the circle.

When the demon saw the circle, it laughed and bade the boy’s father scatter the earth. However, when the circle was broken, the forest’s earth still clung to the boy’s hands and the demon could not touch him.

“Your son is useless to me,” said the demon. “I will return tomorrow; wash his hands well, or you will receive none of the gold I promised you.”

The boy’s father nodded and bowed to the demon, only showing his rage when it was gone. He dragged his son to the chopping block and swiftly removed both of his hands.

“That’ll teach you!” he roared at the boy, who had fainted from the pain, and stormed away.

When the boy came to a few moments later, he got to his knees, ashen from the pain, and gathered his useless hands in his arms. Then he shuffled into the forest, leaving drops of blood behind him until he reached the heart of the forest.

“Help me,” he said to the tree that stood there.

_ No more, _ rustled the forest.  _ No more. The demon will burn us to the ground. _

“But it will take me,” said the boy. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

_ A deal is a deal, _ said the forest.

“Then make a deal with me!”

_ A deal is a deal is a deal _ .

_ Yes, _ said the heart of the forest.  _ But I will make a new deal. Give me your hands, child. _

The boy dropped his hands onto the forest floor. “Here!”

_ I will give you new hands, _ said the heart of the forest,  _ and the demon will not be able to touch you. _

When the demon came the following day, the boy had hands of wood, and the demon could not touch him, try as it may. It spat at the boy’s feet, and at his father’s feet, and then it left, never to return.

The boy’s father was enraged by the loss of his gold, and he quickly turned on the boy. “What use are you?” he cried, and he began beating his son.

When he was done, the boy’s left ear was ringing, and he was bruised so that he could hardly walk. But walk he did. He turned his back on his father and headed into the forest.

“I’m leaving,” he told the forest. The forest said nothing.

Just before he left the last tree behind, it said,  _ You have magic in you, child. _

“You can have it back,” said the boy.

The forest laughed.  _ Not all of it is ours. _

“Thank you,” said the boy, because he could think of nothing else.

_ Be careful. _

+

The boy’s dreams were full of thorns, and a dark buzzing mass tried to find its way to him. The trees spoke into his left ear, murmuring advice. He wove a wall of briars around himself, and roses grew from the briars.

The boy trusted the forest, and in return, the forest, which was older than anyone knew, showed him a secret.

+

A boy with wooden hands is a strange sight nearly everywhere, and the boy was treated like an oddity. In some towns, children threw stones at him, and the only place that would give him shelter was the prayer-house. In others, they asked him what tricks he could do, and booed when he turned away. In the larger cities, no one noticed him, and he was just another gawking tourist.

Nowhere could he find a teacher. Witch or magician, soothsayer, fortune teller or conjuror, it was always the same: they’d ask him to choose a card or look into a crystal or drink a cup of tea to the dregs. He would do as they asked. And one by one, they turned him away.

“But why not?” he asked one seer, who had taken one look at his palm before shaking her head at him.

She hesitated. “This isn’t where you’re meant to go.”

“Then where?”

“Go south,” she said. “Along the corpse road.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, but the seer shrugged and couldn’t tell him anything else.

So he went south, or as near it as he could, until he reached the capital, where the guards ushered him through the gates without a second glance. It was a market day, but the boy didn’t know that. He was following the corpse road, but he didn’t know that, either, not yet. He was following the same sense that had led him into the forest, a year ago.

It led him to a little shop on a quiet street, with a bell that rang when he opened the door.

“Hello?” he called.

“I’m coming,” came from the little stairwell behind the counter. The boy watched as a woman entered the shop. Her hair followed, floating behind her as if it, too, was a living breathing creature.

“You’re late, you know,” said the woman.

“I am?”

“You missed lunch.”

The boy’s stomach growled.

“There’s plenty of leftovers,” the woman said. “And then we can begin working, since we’re already behind.”

“Don’t you want to test me or something?” blurted the boy.

The woman looked him up and down. “You have a forest in your blood.” It was not a question. “You need to learn to control it. What’s your name?”

“Adam,” said the boy, who might or might not have been named Adam at birth. “Adam Parrish.”

“Persephone,” said the woman, and she shook his hand, not a bit put out by the hard wood it was made of.

\+ 

The forest in Adam’s dream was neither deep nor dark, and in fact was nothing like the forest behind his childhood home. Little flowers grew through the soft grass. A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. Adam looked up at the soft blue that showed through the branches, and his foot slipped into a little brook.

For a dream, it was very wet. Adam shook out his shoe, cursing.

“Hey, watch your mouth, asshole,” said someone.

Adam whirled around.

The boy standing there was nothing like the rest of the forest. He looked as if he was made entirely of sharp angles, and wouldn’t mind a bit if you cut yourself on him. His rumpled clothes and bare feet spoke of dishevelment, but his head was shaved as close as a soldier’s.

“Who are you?” Adam asked.

“Who am  _ I _ ?” The boy crossed his arms. “What do you mean, who am I?”

“Usually I recognize people in my dreams, but you…” Adam cocked his head. “I don’t know you.”

“Your dreams? This is my dream.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is,” countered the boy, so fast that Adam took a step back. “I’ve been having it since I was a child.”

“All right, then. If it’s your dream, then what happens next?”

“What do you mean, what happens next?” The boy waved his arms in an expansive gesture. “This is the dream.”

“The forest…is the dream,” Adam said.

“You’re not very bright, are you?”

“Fine. Be like that,” Adam said, and walked away.

“I bet you’re just a figment of my imagination,” the boy called after him.

Before long, Adam had gotten very, very lost. He looked up, but the sun hadn’t moved at all. There was no moss on the trees, either. Adam sat down with his back against a tree and waited for the dream to end. No way was he spending his nights as well as his days endlessly walking.

“Hey,” said a voice above him.

“Go away,” Adam said without looking up.

“You wanna be lost forever?”

“I’ll just wake up,” Adam said.

“Not everybody does.”

Adam snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You want to take that risk, dickface, that’s on you.”

Adam looked up, craning his neck to see the boy in the branches above him.

“I’m serious,” the boy said. “I’ll guide you out. Free of charge.”

“Fine,” Adam said.

The boy swung down and landed on his feet in front of Adam, grinning when Adam jumped. “Come on, then. Tell me how you got into my dream.”

“It’s my dream,” Adam said. “I just fell asleep.”

The boy poked him in the ribs. “Are you sure you’re real?”

Adam swatted him away. “Of course I am.”

+

Persephone taught Adam everything—if not everything she knew, then everything he knew. She was patient, but she expected him not to repeat his mistakes, and it was a while before Adam stopped flinching when he failed.

He spent hours bent over bowls full of ink and water—Persephone despised crystal balls—trying to see beyond the walls of Persephone’s little workshop. He brewed sleeping draughts and cleansing oils until the smoke from the cauldron fire made the alley cats fall asleep and the alley cobblestones shine. Visitors to the shop would find him sitting at the counter, shuffling tarot and drawing one card after another, trying to predict each one. He read long, heavy books, full of complicated diagrams and long incantations, and when he thought he’d figured out the magic behind them, he went to Persephone.

“Show me,” she’d say, and Adam would draw a map of the ley lines in the city, or predict dinner, or renew the protections on the charms the shop sold.

It was hard, endless work, yet Adam found that he was happy. When he was ill, Persephone took care of him. He had food to eat, and a warm bed, and clothes that fit. When the day was over, they sat together in peace. Sometimes Persephone would tell him about her travels in her youth, and Adam learned about the world through Persephone’s eyes. Often he was tired at the end of a long day, and he would fall asleep while listening to Persephone describe the mountain lion that had almost eaten her once.

At first, every person who entered the shop stared at his hands. But Adam refused to hide them, and Persephone looked at anyone who asked as if they were very strange indeed. Soon enough, people stopped asking questions. After all, the city was filled with wonders. What was another boy?

+

“You’re back,” said the boy.

Adam looked up from where he was sprawled on the grass. “Oh, it’s you again.”

“Oh, it’s you again,” the boy said in a mockery of Adam’s accent. “It’s my dream, remember?”

“Not really,” Adam said, closing his eyes. “Do you mind? It’s been a long day. I’m trying to get some sleep.”

“You’re already asleep, moron.” The boy sat down next to Adam’s head. “You never told me your name last time.”

“It’s Adam.”

“Ronan.”

Adam cracked open an eye. “Nice to meet you, and all.”

“Sure.”

Adam nodded and went back to his nap. A minute later, something poked him.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Ronan said. He poked Adam again.

“Seriously, stop that.”

“Or what? You’ll snore at me?” Ronan pulled up a handful of grass and dropped it onto Adam’s shirt. “Just my luck. The one person I’ve ever seen here and he’s a lump.”

“The only person?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“So that’s why you thought I was part of the dream last time,” Adam mused. “D’you think this counts as dreamwalking?”

Ronan groaned. “I don’t care.” He dumped another handful of dirt and grass on Adam.

“Stop that,” Adam said, brushing it off.

Ronan hummed, twirling a flower stem between two fingers. “There’s a place with rocks and things in the woods. We could go climbing.”

“Climbing on rocks? What are you, five?”

In response, Ronan made an extremely dirty gesture.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“Are you scared?” Ronan taunted.

“Of course I’m not scared.”

“Then come on, dickface.” When Adam didn’t answer, he leaned over so that his face was above Adam’s. His eyes were very blue, as if Adam was looking at the sky straight through his skull. “I won’t let you get lost, you know.”

Adam sighed. “Fine. Take me to see your rocks.”

+

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” Persephone asked one evening, after Adam had fallen asleep during a particularly convoluted tale about a possessed carriage and someone’s family jewels.

Adam yawned. “No.”

“Do you remember your dreams?”

“No?” Adam frowned, trying to recall anything from the dream. “Is it important?”

“Everything’s important,” Persephone said, but she said this in the same tone she used for ‘we’re out of milk,’ so Adam dismissed it.

From then on, Persephone often asked Adam if he remembered his dreams. Sometimes she gave him nasty-smelling teas, or tucked pouches of rosemary and bay leaves under his pillow so that he smelled like a roast chicken when he woke up. Nothing helped him remember.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Adam said one morning, after one of Persephone’s concoctions had kept him up vomiting out the window all night. “They’re not prophetic dreams, are they?”

Persephone narrowed her eyes at him. “…No.”

“Then what’s the point? I don’t have to know my dreams. Besides, they’re usually about silly things, like talking goats or being chased by a giant boot or something.”

“I thought you didn’t remember any of your dreams?”

Adam paused. “I don’t. I just…that’s what I used to dream about. Before.”

“Before the forest.”

“No, before here. I think.” Adam looked at Persephone beseechingly. “Please, no more catnip teas.”

Persephone flapped a hand at him and said, “We’ve run out of butter,” which meant that Adam was to go to market and maybe they’d talk about it later.

Adam went to see if they needed anything else—Persephone was very fond of butter, but most other kitchen necessities slipped her mind—and decided that he wasn’t going to restock their supply of catnip, just in case.

+

“Your boss is fucking weird,” Ronan said.

Adam glanced at Ronan, who was trying to coax a raven down from a tree branch.

“This is totally normal,” Ronan said. “Caw? Cacaw?”

“Nothing about you is normal,” Adam said. He winced at the honesty in his tone, but Ronan seemed not to notice. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we can’t remember these dreams in the morning, though?”

“I remember them.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” Ronan said. “I don’t see how you could forget.”

“Why, because you’re so memorable?”

“I’m goddamn unforgettable,” Ronan said. “But I mean, doesn’t the stuff you take with you remind you?”

“What stuff?”

“The stuff you bring out of your dreams.”

“You can’t take things out of your dreams,” Adam said, exasperated.

“I can.”

“That’s impossible.” Adam stared at Ronan. “That’s like making something out of nothing. Magic doesn’t  _ work _ like that.”

“It does for me,” Ronan said. “Besides, it’s not like you know everything. You’re still an apprentice.”

It was true. Adam gave up on the line of questioning and watched Ronan talk to the raven, for all the world as if he were a bird himself. Poised on a lower branch, he almost looked like he could take flight. Adam imagined Ronan flying, dragging himself through the air as if it had done him wrong.

“Ronan,” Adam said slowly, “d’you think you could find me outside the dream? I could tell you Persephone’s address and you could come and tell her everything.”

“Can’t,” Ronan said.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“But why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Ronan,” Adam said impatiently.

“Adam.”

“Give me one reason.” Adam interrupted Ronan before he could say anything. “A real reason.”

“Because I can’t leave my room, that’s why.” Ronan abandoned his bird-baiting attempts and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. “I’m grounded.”

“Why are you grounded?”

“I tried to sneak out to find you.”

Adam laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m never getting out again. Declan’s going to keep me locked up until I die.”

“Who’s Declan?” The name sounded familiar to Adam.

“My shithead brother.”

“You’ve never talked about him before.”

Ronan lifted one eyebrow. “That’s because he’s a shithead.”

“Yeah, but you think everyone’s a shithead.”

“That is fundamentally untrue.” Ronan grinned at Adam, displaying a mouth full of teeth. “I don’t think you’re a shithead.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be, dickface.”

+

Adam was cooking, something at which he did not excel but which he nevertheless occasionally needed to do unless he wanted to get butter poisoning from Persephone’s cooking. Although a year of Persephone’s tutelage meant he could whip up a perfect wakefulness solution, he still hadn’t mastered seasoning.

“That smells strange,” Persephone said, drifting into the kitchen. She was wearing her good cloak held closed with a triangular brooch, over a white dress that Adam had never seen before.

“You look nice,” Adam said. “Where are you going?”

“The graveyard,” Persephone said. At Adam’s confused expression, she added, “It’s Saint Mark’s Eve.”

“Oh. Should I take this off the fire then?” Adam asked hopefully.

Persephone shook her head. “I’m going alone. This is not something you can accompany me on.”

“Why not?”

“Adam, you’re full of old forest magic. There’s too much life in you. You’ll disturb the spirits, and it’s hard on them anyways.” Persephone pulled up her hood and patted Adam on the arm. “Do try to go to sleep early. Your aura could disturb the rituals.”

“The graveyard is outside the city!”

“Yes,” Persephone said. She swept out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back a few hours past midnight.”

Adam scowled at the stew, which did smell off.

It tasted off when he ate it, too. So did the tea he made himself. Uncomfortable for no reason he could discern, Adam decided to try and solve a knotty problem in one of Persephone’s books. It would distract him.

An hour later, Adam thrust the book aside in triumph. All he had to do was scry for the right location. It could take a while, but at least it was an answer. He wouldn’t have to go and place the stones, just check that it was the right spot.

He poured a bowl of water, adding ink to the water until it was sufficiently dark. Then he shut himself up in the workshop—no need to scry in an unprotected room on St. Mark’s, after all—and prepared himself for a stiff neck. It was only ten o’clock, so he’d be done long before midnight.

The cloudy water turned black, darker than the ink that he’d added to it, then showed him a bird’s eye view of a foreign land. At least, Adam assumed it was foreign. It looked completely unfamiliar.

“Show me a crossing point,” he told it, and the picture obligingly flashed between various scenes so fast that it gave Adam a headache.

“Slower,” he told it. Grudgingly, the spell slowed to a scene every ten seconds.

It was just showing him a stone circle when the picture turned back to inky water and the room grew cold. Adam drew a surprised breath and looked up into an unfamiliar face.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said. The man standing in front of him was definitely supposed to be on the corpse road, walking into a graveyard. Persephone would be put out at him.

“Excuse me,” said the soon-to-be-dead boy. “Where am I exactly?”

“21 St. Agnes Street, Richmond, Virginia, although you’re actually on the corpse road.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“I imagine it is.”

This, Adam was sure, was not the usual conversation witches had with spirits on St. Mark’s Eve. He looked the spirit up and down. It, or rather he, was off. The whole night felt off, but this felt different— 

It wasn’t midnight yet. And the boy wasn’t transparent, even though he was standing in the middle of the table. He wasn’t soon-to-be-dead, he was already dead. Still…“You don’t look very dead.”

The look he got was unamused to the extreme. “I assure you, I am.”

“Wake up. Wake up, damn it,” said a girl in his left ear. It was the first thing he’d heard clearly in that ear in years.

Adam shook his head. This night was just getting worse and worse. “You’re going backwards. If you were dead or dying, you’d be going the other direction—are you all right?”

“Maybe you should try again?” A boy, this time.

“Can you hear that?” the maybe-dead boy asked, looking around the workshop.

“Do you want to kiss someone who’s been dead for ten years, Henry? Because let me tell you, dead men do not brush their teeth,” said the girl.

Adam rubbed his ear, trying to banish the voices. “I can, and I shouldn’t be able to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of intruding,” said the boy in Adam’s left ear. Adam couldn’t blame him.

The maybe-dead boy shivered, a horrible pinched look on his face, and vanished.

“No, no, I insist,” said the girl in Adam’s ear.

Adam threw up into the scrying bowl.

+

“Come with me,” Ronan said.

“I already did,” Adam pointed out, because he had. They’d been in the cavern (dark with a hole in the middle of the floor), the hollow tree (damp with woodlice), and the lake (muddy and full of garbage.) They’d been walking around for hours, through all their familiar haunts, and Ronan still wouldn’t let him rest.

“You know, it’s no fun just walking around doing nothing,” Adam said.

“Sorry that you’re not fucking enjoying yourself more,” Ronan muttered. He glowered at the little stream and kicked a foot in the water, startling the fish so that they turned from red to silver, flashing in the sunlight.

Adam looked at him, surprised. It wasn’t that Ronan was always pleasant. He could be, and frequently was, rude, coarse, and egotistic. It just wasn’t like him to be so downhearted.

“Let’s go see if that raven is still around,” Adam suggested.

Ronan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Adam experienced a moment of very real horror. “Dead?”

“No! I took her.” When Adam stared at him, he raised his eyebrows. “I took her with me? I brought her out of the dream?”

“Oh,” Adam said. “When?”

“When you were busy gallivanting off to wherever you were three nights ago.”

“I told you, I met a dead person.”

“And I told you, I don’t care.”

“Fine.” Adam sat down next to the stream. “I’m done wandering around for tonight.”

Ronan snarled at him.

“I’m not here for your amusement.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Screw you,” Adam said evenly. “I’m a real person, you know, not one of your dream fish. You can’t just kick me and make me do tricks for your amusement.”

“I know you’re not a dream thing,” Ronan said. He sat down next to Adam, looking…lost.

At a loss, Adam resorted to poking the fish with a stick. If you were lucky, they turned bright orange.

“It’s not nothing,” Rona said finally. “What we’re doing. I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“My mother. She’s in here somewhere.”

“How long have you been looking?” Adam asked curiously. The idea of needing to look for, and help, a mother was foreign to him. His own mother, never a prominent figure in his life, had become a shadowy, half-forgotten memory, and Persephone was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

Ronan didn’t answer.

“Ronan?”

“Three years,” Ronan said, in a voice that was much smaller than usual.

“But this place is so small!”

Ronan snorted. “No it isn’t. It’s a dream.”

They sat in silence. Adam’s mind churned, trying to make sense of Ronan’s words and piecing together what he knew of dreams with the dream-forest and his conversations with Ronan.

“The first time I came here, you told me that some people never wake up. That they go deeper and deeper into the forest and get lost. Is that what happened to your mother?”

Ronan nodded. “Yeah, I think.”

“So if you go looking for her, won’t the same thing happen to you?”

“No, because I won’t get lost. It’s my dream.”

“How is your mother here if it’s your dream?” Adam countered. “How am I here?”

“Because this place isn’t mine, obviously,” Ronan said. “Just the dream.”

“And your mother was here in  _ her _ dream, and she got lost.”

“It’s not the same,” Ronan said sharply.

“Why not?”

“Because...because I have magic! I can bring a bird out of a dream. I can bring back my mom.”

“I have magic too,” Adam said.

“I don’t need your help!”

“What— I— Ronan, I didn’t offer to help you!”

“Good, cause I don’t want you to.”

“I’m saying that saying that you can bring a person out of a dream with you because you brought back a bird is like saying you can predict the date of someone’s death because you foresaw what they would have for dinner. It’s a stupid idea. I don’t think you should go.”

“Who asked you, anyways?” Ronan evaded Adam’s grab at him and stood. “I’m going to look for her right now.”

“It’s been hours. You’ll wake up soon, and then you’ll show up here tomorrow night, just like always.”

“No, I won’t,” Ronan said. “Because I’m not waking up until I find her.” And with that, he strode off into the forest.

+

Adam reminded himself, for the tenth time since he’d begun working on the potion, not to rub his eyes. Tired as he was, he kept forgetting, and getting powdered calcium in his eyes would not be fun. 

Maybe he should stop. A yawn at the wrong moment could make the whole thing blow up in his face and dye him a nasty shade of purple.

Adam covered the tiny cauldron and carefully removed it from the fire. It would keep until Persephone could see to it, or until he got a decent night’s sleep—except he hadn’t gotten one of those for a week. He woke up constantly, images slipping away from him as soon as he opened his eyes. All he could remember were thorns.

“Adam!” Persephone called from the front. Last time he’d checked, she’d been doing a palm reading for a group of old ladies who had been acting like giggly schoolgirls. He really hoped they were gone by now. He rubbed his eyes and cursed at the sting.

“In a second!” Adam called, squinting one eye shut and looking around the room for the basin.

“Come here right now, please,” Persephone called back.

Urgency in Persephone was rare enough that Adam came down the stairs in his apron, hands still coated in gunk and one eye squinted shut.

There was a member of the royal guard there, looking decidedly unimpressed by the shop and even less so by Adam. Another guard was peering at the bottles sitting behind the counter.

“Unless you’re looking to get pregnant, I doubt that those bottles are of any interest to you,” Adam told him.

The guard flushed and straightened. His partner glared at him before turning to Persephone. “Now will you come with us, ma’am?”

“Come where?” Adam asked. “What’s going on?”

“That is none of your concern, apprentice,” said the unimpressed guard.

Persephone held up one hand regally. “There you are wrong. Adam’s abilities and power will be necessary if I am to succeed. Adam, the king’s brother is ill, and they’re looking for anyone who can cure him.”

Surely they had doctors at court, and at least one magic worker? What could he do that they couldn’t? What illness was so strange and terrible that they resorted to summoning a shop witch and her apprentice to the castle?

“Shall I bring your kit, then?” Adam asked.

“And lose the apron,” added the second guard.

+

In his best clothes, with Persephone’s magic kit balanced on his lap, Adam looked out of the window of the carriage. The curtains were drawn shut, but he could peek outside and see the houses of the finer parts of Richmond. The city looked normal. No one was crying in the streets, people weren’t wearing mourning—business as usual.

“They’re keeping it quiet for now,” Persephone said quietly. “It’s too demoralizing for people to have two royals with the same illness. It would terrify them.”

“Two?” Adam asked.

“You know King Niall was assassinated a few years ago,” Persephone said.

Adam nodded. He could faintly remember hearing of it, but it had been before he met Persephone.

“After he died, the queen fell asleep and never woke up. They called me in back then too, but I couldn’t wake her up.”

“So why did the king call you to help his brother?”

“I got her to move,” Persephone said sorrowfully.

+

The carriage dropped them off at a side entrance to the castle, where a footman waited to guide them through a maze of drafty corridors. He then deposited them in the court warlock’s workshop. The warlock, wearing fine velvet robes that put Adam’s good trousers to shame, bowed his head frostily and led them through even more corridors, until Adam was sure he’d seen the same tapestry twice. Finally, when Adam was wondering how everyone in the castle didn’t wear through their shoes every month from all the walking, the warlock stopped in front of a door.

“His Highness is in a coma, but we do not know if he can hear what happens around him. The royal household expects the utmost discretion and finesse,” the warlock said, looking pointedly at Adam, who had hidden his hands discreetly in his pockets.

“Of course,” Persephone said.

“Very well.” And without further ado, he let them into the prince’s chambers.

Adam’s first thought was that the prince never cleaned his room. His second thought was that there were servants in the castle, and didn’t the prince let any of them clean anything up?

His third thought was that the garbage scattered throughout the enormous room was of a very odd nature.

“Adam,” Persephone called imperiously. She was already standing by the head of the prince’s bed. “My kit.”

“Yes, sorry,” Adam said, hurrying to her side. He set down the box that held Persephone’s magic kit, a workshop in miniature, and slipped off the woven cover.

“Thank you.” Persephone opened the kit and took out a small mirror. “That’s all for now.”

Adam nodded and watched as she conducted her examination. A mirror held in front of the prince’s mouth showed that he breathed. When Persephone withdrew to scatter powdered fig leaf on the mirror, however, Adam froze.

“What is it?” Persephone asked.

“I know,” Adam began, before hesitating. Who knew what effect his next words would have? He leaned in and spoke directly into Persephone’s ear. “I know who he is.”

“Well, yes,” Persephone said. “Prince Ronan Lynch.”

“No, I mean, I’ve met him,” Adam hissed. “In my dreams.”

Persephone gave him an unreadable look. “The dreams you don’t remember, you mean?”

“Yes,” Adam said. “He can—he can walk in dreams, kind of. And he can bring things out of them. I guess all the weird stuff he has in here is from his dreams? He was looking for his mother…” Adam trailed off. “The queen. He thought the queen was stuck in the dream forest and he went to bring her back. And then I stopped sleeping properly. I didn’t see him anymore, or the dream forest.”

“And you’re suddenly remembering all this now?”

“When I saw him,” Adam said.

Persephone gave him another long look, then shrugged. “All right. How do we get him out, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“You said he could bring things out of dreams?” Persephone bent down and picked up a child’s windmill, made out of bright silks and spinning in a nonexistent wind. “I’ve never heard of that happening, but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Still, there’s no guarantee that he could bring back a person.”

“That’s what I told him,” Adam said. “Only I said it worse, and drove him away. This is my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Persephone said. “It’s his fool idea.”

Adam hesitated. “He did say he brought back a raven, once.”

Persephone nodded sharply. “That’s easy enough to check.” She walked to the door and jerked it open. “Adler, does the prince own a raven?”

“He does,” said the warlock. “Anyone in the castle could tell you that. If you are trying to impress you are failing.”

“I see,” Persephone said. She glanced back at Adam. “We’re done here.”

“Already?”

“We have no cure for His Highness at the moment. If I or my apprentice make a breakthrough, we will let you know.”

Adam packed up the magic kit, which had barely been unpacked, and slung it over his shoulder. They left Ronan’s room behind in silence, once again following the warlock’s velvet covered back.

“Why aren’t we trying to heal him?” Adam whispered.

“He’s not sick, just dreaming. I don’t know how to fix that.” Persephone poked him in the arm. “You might.” Another poke, for emphasis. “You’ve been sharing his dreams.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Adam protested. He immediately felt foolish. Intentions didn’t matter anymore. He had to bring Ronan back.

+

Once they’d arrived at the shop, Persephone put up the “Closed” sign and locked all the doors and windows. She made Adam help her, and then she sat him down in the kitchen and made tea.

“I need to talk to Ronan,” Adam said. Sitting around felt wrong. He should be rushing around, finding a solution, not drinking herbals. “Maybe if I figure out why he’s stuck, then I can help him find his way out.”

“And if he’s not stuck?” Persephone asked.

“Huh?”

“He might be searching for his mother yet, or perhaps he’s decided to stay in his dream world.”

“So you think he’s blocking me out intentionally?” Adam asked.

Persephone shrugged. “Or accidentally. He might not even notice. Drink your tea.”

Adam took a gulp of the tea, wrinkling his nose against the overpowering funk of valerian. It was a possibility. It could be dangerous, barging into Ronan’s dreaming world if he was unwanted. But Adam had learned to trust his instincts from Persephone, and he trusted Ronan not to hurt him. In fact, Adam realized, he trusted Ronan to keep him safe, and wasn’t that a new development?

“I’m going to do it,” Adam said decisively. “With or without your help.”

Persephone sighed. “Do drink your tea. It’ll help you sleep.”

+

The thorn vines slithered at the corner of his eye, always stopping when he looked straight at them. With every step, they tore into his clothes. When he stopped, the thorns caught against his skin and left stinging red scratches. He could see nothing between the briars but more thorns, grey and brown and green until there was nothing to see.

_ We told you to be careful, _ whispered a voice Adam had not heard in a long, long time.  _ This is not careful. _

Adam paused in his tracks. “Hello,” he said politely. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

_ All forests are connected. Long ago, before the earth split and drifted from itself, we were one. _

“But this is a dream,” Adam said.

The forest rustled in amusement.  _ It is both. And your magic is a forest in itself. _

“A forest wouldn’t get himself trapped inside a briar,” Adam said. He tried to move, and an enterprising thorn drew blood.

_ No. But you are not a forest, and this is a dream, _ said the forest.  _ Anyone might be trapped in a dream, be they witch or prince or the most practiced dreamer alive. _

Hope sparked within him. “Do you mean Ronan? Is he here? Can you help me—” Adam stopped before he could say anything else. “Forgive me. That was rude. Perhaps you know how I might release myself from these thorns?”

_ A forest would never be trapped inside such a thing as a briar bush, _ whispered the forest.  _ You know how to free yourself. You have a forest living within you. _

“Yes,” Adam said. “Thank you.”

_ You are welcome, little forest. We taught you how. _

+

Adam sat up. Fragments of vine fell away from him.

Persephone sat at his bedside, ready with another batch of sleep tea. It was cold, and it tasted the worse for it, but Adam downed it all anyways and lay back amid the greenery in his bed. 

+

Here was the clearing in which he always found himself. Here was the stream, currently empty of the little flickering fish. Here were the blue flowers in the grass and the raven’s tree, its nest falling apart. And everywhere, over all these familiar landmarks, wove briar roses in various stages of bloom.

Adam began to walk. He set forth in the direction he had seen Ronan take after their last, fateful argument, but even his resolve could not melt the trees that happened in his path, or the boulders he had to climb. It was impossible to walk in a straight line in a forest, even in a dream forest. And the dream forest, always so open and full of light, seemed darker and gloomier than Adam had ever seen. It was no longer summer.

Presumably the trees had not popped out of existence for Ronan either, so walking in a straight line was not a priority. On the other hand, who knew where Ronan had wandered off to?

Something slid against his arm, and Adam yelped, slapping at the thing.

It was a tiny briar vine.

Ears going a determined pink, Adam flicked the vine away from his arm. It coiled around him stubbornly and would not release him until he tore it away and stepped on it. More tendrils reached towards Adam, and he backed away, only to bump into another tree, this one covered in pink and white flowers. The briar had dug itself into the tree trunk. Where thorns had punctured the bark, reddish sap oozed as if the trees were bleeding.

Adam shuddered, bile rising in his throat. The briars were killing Ronan’s dream forest. The forest in him, newly awoken and tender as a sapling, trembled.

_ A forest would never be trapped inside such a thing as a briar bush… _

Adam hastened his pace.

He ran through the forest, crashing through the undergrowth, clambering over boulders, careful, careful not to bleed on anything, because who knew what his blood would do here: his blood which held a forest. The briars thickened as he went, filling the air with a sweet scent that clogged his nose. Here the vines were thick as his torso, here the thorns sharp enough to take out an eye, here they wove themselves into a tunnel, light filtering through dark green, shadows of wicked hooks long as Adam’s arm.

Adam burst through, panting through the stitch in his side. A body lay on the forest floor, which was carpeted in fallen petals. Beside it lay a long mound, completely covered in the pink and white blooms.

Adam ran forward, falling to his knees beside Ronan. With relief, he noted that Ronan was still breathing, his chest rising and falling, slow and deep. Feeling both silly and protective, he swept the accumulated petals off Ronan.

“Ronan, wake up,” Adam said.

Ronan didn’t move.

“Wake up, you bastard,” Adan, confident in Ronan’s ability to translate the insult into an endearment. “Wake up. People are worried about you.” He hesitated. “I’m worried about you.”

Nothing.

“I know who you are. I’m not mad. I mean, I’m a little mad, but I get it. I probably would have been weird about it if I’d known you were the prince.”

A petal landed on Ronan’s upper lip, brushing his nose. Adam felt the need to sneeze just looking at it, but Ronan didn’t stir.

Adam sighed and rose to his feet, looking around for a clue. The mound beside Ronan seemed a good place to start.

Clearing the flowers from it took a while, and only uncovered more vines. These were nearly thornless, shaped into an oblong too tidy for nature. Between the vines, which grew in intricate patterns, Adam could see the glimmer of jewels and costly satin. Gold hair curled beneath a delicate crown.

Queen Aurora was paler than the marble sculptures in fountains around the city, her features every bit as delicate and precise as those sculptures. She did not breathe.

With a heavy heart, Adam returned to Ronan’s side. Perhaps he had tried to draw his mother out of her sleep? Or perhaps there was a trap in the bower, something hidden.

_ A forest would never be trapped inside such a thing as a briar bush _ .

Adam closed his eyes and took Ronan’s hand in his own, careful not to bruise the soft flesh with his own wooden fingers.

“Wake up,” he whispered. “Wake up.” He pushed with all his might, picturing the briars retreating from the dream forest, the flowers fading and dying. He imagined every thorny vine withering as if salted.

“Wake up wake up wake up—”

It hurt.

+

Adam awoke, mouth open in a quiet cry of pain. He hadn’t overreached with a spell in a long time, and even then, it had been a case of skill, not power. Whatever had brought the briars and kept Ronan asleep within his own dream, it was far stronger than him.

It felt as if there was another Adam just inside his skin, and that Adam had done something incredibly stupid. He sat up, looking around for Persephone, or at least a cup of sleep tea. Neither made an appearance.

Well, he probably should let himself recover a little before diving back in. Adam lay down again begrudgingly, listening to the voices filtering in from—the sitting room?

“Do you think he’s awake yet?” said someone. “Maybe we could go and check on him?”

“Gansey, stop being such a creeper,” said someone else.

“I’m sure he’ll be out in a few minutes,” said Persephone.

Adam glared at the door separating his room from the sitting room and got out of bed. He took the time to change out of his pyjamas, washed his face in the little basin in his bedside table, and stepped out to meet the people in the sitting room.

It was an odd sight. Persephone was perched in the only armchair in the house. The sofa held a girl with hair as odd as Persephone’s, sort of like a soft black porcupine, and a boy who seemed to be sharing his tea with several bees. Across from them sat a boy in one of the kitchen chairs, wearing a shirt in an eye-searing shade of blue.

“I know you,” Adam said, narrowing his eyes at the last, who beamed at him.

“Yes, we have met before! I’m glad you remember!”

“That  _ I _ remember? You were dead!”

“I got better,” said the boy, his wide smile faltering.

“I see you’ve been keeping all sorts of things to yourself, Adam,” Persephone said in a casual sort of voice. Adam was suddenly on the receiving end of three sympathetic looks.

The undead boy cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I mean, I really was returning from a near-death magical suspension, sort of a cursed coma…”

“These are really good cookies,” said the other boy loudly.

“Sit down, Adam,” Persephone said in the silence that followed this announcement.

Undead boy quickly got up and offered his chair. “Are you all right? You seem unwell.”

“I just tried to ram the magical equivalent of a wall with the magical equivalent of my head,” Adam said flatly.

Porcupine girl winced. She and bee boy scooted to either side of the sofa, and undead boy sat down between them. It really was made for only two people, which meant that its three occupants were squashed together. Instead of looking uncomfortable and put out with this situation, they settled comfortably, fitting against each other like a puzzle block.

Persephone offered him a cup of tea. Everyone stared at him as he sipped.

“I’d like to know what’s going on here,” Adam said finally.

The three strangers on his sofa exchanged glances. “It’s a long story,” undead boy said finally.

“Summarize,” Adam said.

“I’ll talk then,” said porcupine girl.

 

+

Atop the mantel in Persephone’s sitting room, the little wooden clock ticked away. It was too far from the main square to hear the city clocks, but they had long since chimed two in the morning. Respectable shop owners were by and large asleep; alley cats roamed the streets.

Adam leaned his forehead against his knees and listened to the sound of Blue and Gansey arguing. They'd been going at it for long enough that in a few more hours, it would probably become familiar enough to be soothing.

He’d heard out their story, and strange as it was, it was no odder than his own. Besides, Persephone believed them. Then they’d coaxed his own story out of him, so that he found himself speaking about himself as if they were old, trusted friends.

Finally, Blue shook her head. “I wish Mom was here. She’d know what to do.”

“Not necessarily,” Henry said. “No offense to Maura’s skills, but this isn’t exactly ordinary witch business. If it was, they’d have figured it out already.”

Blue scowled at him. “I  _ know _ that, Henry. But she’d at least know more than we do.”

“Actually,” Gansey said, raising a finger, “I believe we might have the solution already.”

“We do?” Blue asked skeptically, at the same time as Adam asked, “Wait, you want to help?”

“Of course,” Gansey said. He looked at Blue and Henry. “We’ll help, right?”

“Absolutely,” Henry said.

Blue nodded, chewing her lip. “Yes. But I want to hear your solution.”

Gansey’s solution had been that Adam kiss Ronan awake. Blue had rolled her eyes at him, and they hadn’t stopped arguing since. Gansey actually seemed to enjoy it at the beginning. although nobody else did, and soon enough they were all frustrated—Blue and Gansey with each other, Henry with them both, and Adam with the entire situation.

“It’s a tried and tested method,” Gansey insisted. “We’ve had one hundred percent success.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “One time, Gansey. It was one time.”

“Still, it did work,” Henry said. “And there’s plenty of precedent in stories and such.”

“Yes, but I kissed actual Gansey. Adam has access only to dream Ronan.”

“He might as well try dream Ronan first, and if that doesn’t work, he can try going to the palace and kissing real life Ronan.”

“Again, I’d prefer not to go back to the palace unless I’m perfectly sure I’ve got a remedy,” Adam said tiredly, not bothering to lift his head from his knees. “Pretty sure kissing the prince could get me locked up.”

“You’re that good, huh?” Henry asked.

Adam could feel the back of his neck turn a nice, revealing pink. “I wouldn’t know,” he muttered.

Gansey either didn’t hear Adam’s response, or he decided to ignore it. “I think true love’s kiss is our most viable option. It’s a way to get around the sleep spell, so you don’t have to attack it head on, and it’s risk-free, so if it doesn’t work—”

“I just go back and try something else,” Adam finished. He sat up, scrubbing exhaustion from his eyes. “All right, I’ll do it. It isn’t as if I’ve got a better option, and I don’t like leaving Ronan there for so long.”

“Will it work?” Henry asked him. His teasing expression had dropped away, and now he seemed concerned. “For you, I mean.”

“It’s not how I thought I’d have my first kiss, but…” Adam shrugged, feeling the blush return full force.

Blue leaned forward and patted him on the arm. “Join the club.”

Adam gave her a tired smile. They were all nice people, and in other circumstances, he would have been happy to make new friends. As it was… “I’ll make sleep tea.”

“I’ll make it,” Blue said. “I’ve helped Mom make it before. Where do you keep the catnip?”

“It’s all next to the stove,” Adam said, nodding at the door to the kitchen. “Persephone made it earlier, she never put anything away.”

It was late at night, and the streets were quiet. Henry and Gansey spoke in low voices. As Blue bustled in the kitchen, Adam closed his eyes and

+

woke in the tunnel to the rose bower.

The path he’d taken to Ronan had browned, every crushed petal gone dead. Nothing new had covered the ground. Malevolence pulsed in every breath of air that Adam took.

Ronan was going to laugh at him so hard if this worked. Then again, he’d be awake and out of the grasp of the evil lurking in this dream. Adam knelt at Ronan’s side, keenly conscious of how ridiculous he must look and how creepy it was to kiss a sleeping person.

Best to get it over with, before he tied himself in knots and gave up on the whole enterprise. Bracing a hand against the ground, Adam leaned forward and gently pressed an awkward, off-center kiss to Ronan’s mouth.

He pulled away, and Ronan looked back at him.

+

Ronan sat up in bed, gasping. It was dark, and there was no hint of the sickly sweet scent of roses in the air, only a musty sort of smell that meant that no-one had opened the windows for quite a while.

He was in his own room, with his own clutter all around and his own drool on the pillow. He was entirely alone.

Ronan threw off the covers, lunging out of bed and halfway across the room gracelessly, tearing through the necessary preparations—week-old pyjamas off, clothes on, a search for a matching pair of shoes, money enough to pay for a carriage ride, if one could be found at such a late hour, and every action accompanied by a breathless litany of swear words, ranging from the very mild to the Declan-scandalizing variety. Then, coat half on, he slammed open the doors of his bedroom and was grabbed by a royal guard.

“Halt! Where are you going at this hour of the—oh.”

Ronan twisted around, trying to get free of the guard’s grip on his collar. “Let go, Carruthers. I have to go!”

“Go where?”

Ronan glared at him. “The fuck does it matter? My friend is in danger, I need to go save him, end of story!”

Gaurdsman Carruthers, while not the sharpest man to ever don light chainmail, was nevertheless not stupid enough to let the prince run out into the night. In this time of conflict and confusion, only one thing was to be done. Besides, Ronan was technically still grounded.

“I’m taking you to His Majesty,” Carruthers decided.

Ronan slumped.

+

Ronan was gone. In his place was an indent in the carpet of rose petals, and a horrible buzzing which made Adam sick to his stomach. And then something disturbed the fallen petals, and something clambered out of a hole in the earth, and Adam scrambled to his feet, falling over himself to get away from the thing.

The creature that had crawled out from underneath the clearing was huge and insectile, with a shine to its shell like the light off the bottles in Persephone’s workshop that no-one was allowed to touch. It rustled against the rose petals, every step releasing sticky perfume into the air. Nevertheless, Adam could taste the air going bitter.

“Hello, Adam,” it said, image flickering, so that it looked almost human, and Adam recognized it.

“No,” he said. His palms itched, something he hadn’t felt since he had fingers made of skin and bone. “I got away from you. You gave up on me. The deal was off! I’m not my father’s anymore!”

“No,” the demon agreed. “You’re mine.”

“I’m  _ mine _ ,” Adam said. “You have no claim over me any more.”

“No, no claim. But a connection. Because your father sold you to me, because you were meant to be mine, I could find you.” Without having a visible mouth, the demon smiled. “Do you know what a racket you and the dreamer made? It was so easy to find you. I could taste you in the air.” Its antennae twitched, and Adam shuddered.

“How did you get in?” he managed. “This is Ronan’s dream. He’d hate you. He’d lock you out.”

“I’m not in his dream, magician boy. His dream is in this place, and so are you, now, and so am I. Magical places like this are easy to walk into, if you have the trick to it. Easy to manipulate, if your flesh is magic. Easy to turn into a trap for little dreaming princelings, to lure their little friends.”

“So you got me,” Adam said. The demon was terrifying, true, but it was also very, very annoying, and the combination was getting on Adam’s nerves. “So we’re both here. So what? What do you want?”

“To make a deal,” said the demon.

Adam gave the demon his most Ronan-like smirk. “That’s never going to happen. I might be stuck here forever, but I’m nowhere near stupid enough to enter into a bargain with you.”

The demon made a clicking sound, almost a laugh. “Or clever enough to make a deal that will save your dreamer’s life?”

+

Declan stared at Ronan. And stared. And stared.

“Go wake Matthew,” he snapped at a guard, who took off running. “Ronan-”

And Ronan found himself on the receiving end of a crushing hug from his nightgowned brother, in the middle of the night, in front of two palace guards. This was definitely a Scene, and Declan did not like Scenes. Declan had grounded him for making a Scene. 

"Oh, thank god," Declan breathed.

“Isn't Matthew supposed to be at school?” Ronan asked, voice muffled slightly by Declan’s satin-clad shoulder.

Declan released Ronan from the hug, although he still gripped Ronan's shoulders as if afraid to let go. "You slept for a week, Ronan! Did you think that I'd force Matthew to stay at boarding school when his brother was ill with the same disease our mother has?"

The reminder struck him like the pain after a bad fall, finally ringing through after the shock of it was over. "Mom's gone." 

The wild relief in Declan's expression softened. "I know, Ronan."

“No, I mean - she's not coming back. She's dead, really. Just trapped. Like I was trapped for, fuck, I guess for the past week."

"But if you got out..."

"I didn't get out alone, someone helped me. And now I need to help him."

Declan frowned. "What does he want?" 

"Want?" Ronan stared at him. "He doesn't want anything! He's fucking stuck in the dream with a monster trying to eat his heart or some shit like that, and I was trying to get to him when Carruthers here caught me leaving the palace."

"Do you know why he helped you?" Declan asked. 

"Because he's a good person or something. He doesn't even know I'm a prince! Declan, I need to help him." Ronan clenched his hands at his sides. "Please."

Declan nodded. "Go. Take a horse from the stables. And a guard. And I expect you to come back afterwards."

Ronan nodded once, jerkily. “Thank you,” he said. The thanks seemed unsatisfactory. He pounded Declan’s shoulder and took off running, desperately trying to remember in which direction lay St. Agnes Street.

+

“Ronan’s gone,” Adam said. “You can’t get at him anymore.”

“Ah, but he won’t be gone forever. He will need to sleep. And when he sleeps, he comes here.”

“Then someone at the palace will brew him a tonic for dreamless sleep.” Adam crossed his arms, trying to stop himself from trembling. “Just give up. You have no leverage here.”

The demon twitched an antenna, or perhaps shrugged its shoulders. “He’ll come back.”

“Ronan may be the most stubborn, self-centered, arrogant, mulish-” Adam paused and took a deep breath, wincing at the way the scented air burned his throat. It was all so much realer than a dream. “Look, he may not be the smartest person I know, but he’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

“I believe there are a dozen human proverbs that say the exact opposite,” said the demon. “He will come back. For you.”

“For me?” Adam repeated. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“He cares for you, and you humans are foolish when you think you are in-”

“He’s not in love with me!” Adam cried. “You must have lost it down here.”

“He is,” said the demon.

“He isn’t!”

“I have no wish to trade disagreements like schoolchildren,” the demon said, flicking its carapace open in disapproval. “Say what you will, there is an attachment between the two of you. I can sense it.”

“That’s hardly the same thing as Ronan caring for me-”

“You came for him, did you not?”

Adam closed his mouth and thought quickly. He  _ had _ come for Ronan. He could only hope that Ronan acted like a sensible person and stayed out. But there was nothing Adam could do about that. Right now, he had to figure out a way to defeat the demon, which meant buying himself time to think of a plan.

“Fine. What did you have in mind?”

+

_ Persephone’s Potions, Predictions and Prestidigitation (preorders and appointments available, inquire within) _ had a nice little glass front and a wooden sign swinging in the breeze. It also had a very sturdy front door and a magically reinforced lock.

“Open up!” Ronan shouted up at the windows on the second floor, all closed and shuttered. “Open up in the name of the king!”

“Um, Your Highness,” tried the guard who’d accompanied him to St. Agnes Street.

“What?” Ronan snapped.

“Have you tried the glass, perhaps?”

Ronan glared at the man. “Why don’t you try it then, if you’re so clever?”

The guard glared right back. He took the truncheon from his belt, hefted it, and gave the glass front a solid whack.

The glass emitted a blue spark and made a sound like  _ ping _ , which is the vocal version of a blue spark. The truncheon bounced back as if the glass were solid granite, and the guard swore, rubbing his arm.

Ronan went back to pounding on the door.

+

“Do you hear that?” Blue asked.

Gansey looked up from his pacing. “Hear what?”

“Sounds like someone trying to get into the shop,” Blue said, frowning.

“At this hour?” Henry said.

Adam twitched. All three immediately looked at him, but when nothing else happened, Gansey asked, “Should we go down and check? It might be important.”

“It’s a potions shop, Gansey, not a hospital,” Blue said, rolling her eyes.

“Nevertheless.”

“Go on, then.”

Gansey glanced at Adam’s prone form. “Ah…”

“I’ll check,” Henry said diplomatically. A bee crawled out of his mouth and flew out of the room.

A few seconds later, Henry sat bolt upright.

+

Ronan almost fell onto the boy who opened the door.

“You’re not Persephone,” he said. “Or Adam.”

“And you’re His Highness, but not His Majesty,” said the boy. “But we all have our failings.”

“How did you know?” Ronan demanded.

“Bees sense royalty,” said the boy.

“What?”

“Never mind,” said the boy, stepping aside and waving him in. “Behind the counter and up the steps. Would your guard mind waiting outside?”

+

“If you’re here, why’s Adam still asleep?”

Ronan blinked at the tiny girl standing in front of him. “Who the fuck are you people?”

“It’s a long story,” sighed the last occupant of the room, the one who looked like an entire field of blueberries had been sacrificed for his shirt. “Suffice to say, we’re his friends. That’s Blue. I’m Gansey. Henry’s the one who let you in.”

“Now answer my question,” said Blue. “Why is Adam still asleep if you’re awake? I tried shaking him but he wouldn’t stir.”

“He’s trapped,” Ronan said curtly. “You better bring his boss out here too, because someone’s going to need to save him, and I have no fucking clue.”

+

“A year and a day is traditional,” the demon said. It paced towards Adam with slow, measured steps. In anything less insect-like, it would have been a prowl. “Enter my service, do my bidding, and in return I will leave your dreamer alone.”

“And what would your bidding include?” Adam asked.

“Your world tires me. You would be my hands, my ears, my eyes. My presence in your world, so I could be free to tend to other things. I have neglected other business, waiting for you.”

“A year and a day from now, in human time,” Adam said. “And no harm comes to Ronan. You leave him alone.”

“Precisely,” buzzed the demon. “There are benefits to this deal for you as well. You could learn a good deal from a year in my service.”

“And if I refuse…”

“I am in his dreams,” the demon said. “There is no limit to the harm I could do him.”

Adam closed his eyes, hoping against hope for a last minute solution. But when he opened his eyes, nothing had changed.

“I agree.”

“Good.” The demon crept up to him. “Repeat after me. I will be your ears.”

“I will be your ears...”

“I will be your eyes.”

“I will be your eyes…”

“I will be your hands.”

“I will be your-mph!”

Unbidden, Adam’s left hand covered his mouth.

+

A little circle stood around Adam’s chair.

“You don’t understand,” Ronan argued. “That thing that’s got him, it  _ wants _ him like… I don’t know, I’ve never met anything that hungry. It’s been waiting for him. You have to let me in to help him.”

“No,” Persephone said. “You’ll be trapped just like he is, and he’d have to protect you as well.”

“I can protect myself!”

“Not against a demon,” Persephone said. “You may have some sort of power, but it is useless against a monster.”

“I’ve seen monsters in my dreams before,” Ronan insisted. “I’ve fought them off.  _ Please _ .”

“Not like this, you haven’t.”

“Hey,” Blue said. “Look.”

One of Adam’s hands had come up to cover his mouth. The other twitched in the air, fingers moving back and forth like tree branches in the wind. The fingers clicked against each other.

“What is he doing?” Ronan asked, horrified.

“He’s fighting it,” Persephone breathed.

“Can he win?” Gansey asked.

Persephone didn’t even glance at him, eyes fixed on Adam’s right hand, crawling up his body. “Adam is the most powerful witch I’ve seen in a long time. The last time I saw someone this powerful…” She shook her head. “If anyone can fight a demon, it’s him.”

+

“Say it,” the demon said.

_ No _ , said the forest inside of Adam, the forest that  _ was _ Adam.

“No,” said Adam. “I won’t.”

“I have your eyes,” buzzed the demon. “I have your ears.”

“Bad deal, if you ask me. They’re not exactly in mint condition.”

“You made the deal,” said the demon, as the world melted around Adam and his ears filled with chittering.

+

“God,” Ronan bit out, snatching Adam’s hand from around his neck, where it was trying to choke him. “Adam. Fight it, come on.”

“This is him fighting,” Persephone said. “You can’t do anything.”

“ _ Fuck _ that.”

+

“You made the deal,” shrieked the demon. “You’re mine.”

Wasps dove at Adam’s face. His father lumbered over him, pulling his fist back to punch him, again and again. Persephone’s mouth dripped blood.

But none of it was real, he told himself desperately, even as Ronan spat at him and a slathering beast tore at him with needle-sharp teeth.

_ Green growing things, _ whispered the forest in him.  _ Roots stretching into the good rich earth. New leaves in the sunlight. _

Blinded and deafened, Adam sent long branches towards the demon and its magic.

+

“What do you need, Adam?” Ronan held Adam’s hand to his chest, barely noticing the eyes on him. He knelt by Adam’s chair. “Do you need a sword? Do you need bug killer? I can find anything in a dream. It’s all there. What do you need?”

+

Adam sent saplings into the earth of the dream-world, but the demon was in everything.

+

“Do you need magic? Dream magic? You can have it. Come on, you bastard, what do you need? Anything you want. I mean it.”

+

Adam was nothing; he was noise and blinding pain and magic; he was green forest magic, older than himself, older than the demon.

+

“Just take it, all right? Burn it all to the ground. Just fucking wake up.”

+

There was a ringing in his left ear.

_ Burn it all to the ground _ .

A forest fire.

_ All forests are connected. Long ago, before the earth split and drifted from itself, we were one. _

And this place was real…

_ Sorry _ , Adam told the dream-world, and reached through it, through the demon and its rotting, fetid magic, into the forest beyond it.

_ What kind of forest are you, little one? _

My name is Adam.

_ A good name,  _ sighed the forest. There was pain in its voice.  _ We are Cabeswater. _

I need your help.

_ Yes.  _ Cabeswater was dying, rotting from the inside. Adam could tell.  _ And from the fire we will grow anew. _

I can’t promise that. I hope so.

_ There are always dreamers. We can live without a dream for a while… We give and give to the dreamer. We can give to you, just this once. _

Thank you. I’ll tell Ronan goodbye from you.

_ Goodbye, Adam. _

_ + _

Adam blinked. He could see the living room ceiling, and wide-eyed faces, taut worry making way for relief and fierce joy.

“Yes!” Gansey whooped, and he and Henry jumped up and down, hollering. Blue laughed wetly.

“Well done, Adam,” Persephone said quietly.

Adam smiled faintly and looked to his side, where Ronan held Adam’ hand to his heart.

“Shit, you asshole,” Ronan said, and scrambled to his feet to throw his arms around Adam. “Never do that again.”

“Yeah,” Adam said hoarsely. He closed his eyes and hugged Ronan back. “No problem.”

+

Recovery, everybody told Adam, was a slow process. Considering he’d defeated a demon, drained an entire world of its magic, and saved the heir to the throne from a fate worse than death, even a taskmaster ten times as strict as Persephone would have cut him some slack.

However, after two days of boring bed rest and an entire week of no magic at all, Adam would have liked to be able to control his own hands, thank you very much.

For the fifth time that day, Adam swore as his fingers spasmed mid-shuffle and sent an entire tarot deck spiralling into the air.

Gansey smiled reassuringly and helped him gather up the fallen cards. “Maybe go slower, this time.”

“Any slower and I might as well put the cards in a pot and stir them,” Adam said. Deck gathered once more, his fingers flicked-clacked as he split the deck and fanned the cards against one another.

“You’ll get there,” Gansey said. His own fingers tapped against the wooden stool he was sitting on. The stool usually sat on the other side of the shop counter, but Gansey himself hadn’t ‘gotten there’ yet from his own ordeal. He’d woken with a shaky sense of balance that morning, and elected to keep Adam company in the shop instead of going on a last-minute supplies run with Blue and Henry.

“Hopefully before I smash another teacup.” Adam held out a fan of cards to Gansey. “Pick a card.”

“Got any eights?” Gansey asked drily, choosing a card.

“Page of Cups,” Adam guessed.

“Close. That’s Blue’s card.”

“Page of Wands?”

Gansey set the card down on the counter. “Pentacles.”

“Damn precognition’s gone haywire.” Adam slipped the card back into the pack. “When did Blue and Henry say they’d be back?”

The shop bell rang.

“Haywire,” Gansey repeated, as Blue and Henry came to greet him. “Did you bring me anything?” Blue dumped a little bag of pastries into his lap. “Thank you, Jane.”

“Now you can’t say the romance has gone out of the relationship,” Henry said. “We brought you something too, Parrish.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Adam said drily.

“Weren’t going to,” Henry said cheerfully. “Found it lurking outside your store.” He gestured at the door.

Adam leaned around the little crowd in front of the counter and found himself eye to eye with Ronan.

“We’ll be going, then,” Blue said, helping Gansey off the stool. “We’ll see you and Persephone when we leave in the morning, right?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Adam mumbled.

Blue raised her eyebrows at him, but said nothing except “goodbye,” chorused by the other two as they left the shop, laden with the afternoon’s packages.

“Hi,” Ronan said in the sudden silence.

“Hi,” Adam echoed, and immediately kicked himself. “Um. Won’t you sit down?”

Ronan crossed the shop and hopped up onto the stool Gansey had just vacated.

Adam stared down at his hands and resumed shuffling the tarot deck, thoughts flying faster than the cards. What did one  _ say _ , after one had woken someone from a cursed sleep? And with a kiss, no less.

Not even a  _ good _ kiss.

“Can you read my future with those?” Ronan asked.

“Not at the moment. I’m not supposed to be doing any magic until Persephone’s sure I won’t burn myself out.”

“Oh.”

A peek up from the cards showed Adam an almost unfamiliar Ronan. The last he’d seen of him, Ronan had been red-eyed and wild, his cheeks streaked with tears. Before that Ronan had been under an enchantment, unnaturally still and pale. This Ronan was vividly alive, his clothes less rumpled than usual and his hair newly shorn. A hint of sunburn reddened his cheeks.

Clear blue eyes flicked from the automatic motion of Adam’s hands to meet Adam’s gaze.

“You look good,” Adam said.

Ronan smirked at him.

“Not like that, asshole. I meant you look healthy.”

“I’ve been sleeping better, now that I don’t dream.” Ronan shrugged. “Or if I do, I don’t remember ‘em.”

“Do you miss it?”

“More like...I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have those dreams. I guess I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Gotta find out who I am.”

“Sorry,” Adam blurted.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “For saving me? Tell us how you really feel, Adam.”

“No, I mean...I killed the dream forest. I burned it down to the ground.”

“You were fighting that fucking demon.”

“But I’m the one who destroyed the forest. I could have-”

“I don’t care,” Ronan interrupted. “I let you. You could have ripped off my arm and I would have let you. You fucking saved my life, and you freed my mother from that thing’s disgusting magic. You could have burned down the city for all I care, but even if you hadn’t done either of those things, you were still trying to save yourself. I don’t understand most of what happened in there, but if you say you burned down an entire world to kill a demon, then it’s fine with me. You’re more important than stupid dream shit.”

Adam stared at him. “Eloquent.”

“Shut up, dickface.”

“Really, though. You’re alright with it?”

Ronan grimaced at him. “I’m more annoyed at Declan for making me choose a fucking career path.”

“You’d think ‘prince’ was enough of a career,” Adam agreed.

“There isn’t much in the role, actually. You’d be surprised at how much stuff I don’t have to do.”

“I don’t think you shirking work is that surprising, Ronan.”

“I mean it,” Ronan insisted. “It’s not- it’s who I am, but it’s not that important.” He scowled. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean...shit, I’m sorry for not telling you. I really didn’t want to. At first I thought you were part of the dream, and by the time I realized you weren’t, I couldn’t. It would have been a  _ thing _ , and I didn’t want it to be a thing.”

“I get it, Ronan.” Adam set down the cards and spread his hands. They grew straight out of his wrists, perfect in every detail, but they were quite obviously wood, down to the grain and the hard sheen of them. “You think I like people staring at me? I’ve wanted to hide parts of myself, too.”

“But you can’t.”

“But I don’t,” Adam corrected. “Better to get it over with. It always comes out anyway. And yeah, it’s harder for me. Doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were the prince of an entire kingdom.”

“Just the northern half, technically. Matthew’s the prince of the south.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’m fucking sorry.” It came out choked, almost forced, but all the more genuine for that.

“I know. I forgive you.”

“And for dragging you into danger with me like a moron.”

“I walked into that danger myself,” Adam said quietly. “I chose it.”

“Still. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to face down that demon.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m not sorry for going after my mother, though.” Ronan glared at him fiercely.

Adam nodded. “You had to know. Just don’t go charging into danger alone again. I would have gone with you, in the end.”

“You’d follow me into battle?” Ronan asked, in a tone of voice that said that the serious part of the conversation was over.

“Someone has to watch your back,” Adam said.

“My back? Are you sure that’s what you were looking at?” Ronan leaned forward, rocking the stool onto two legs and looking at Adam through long lashes.

“Not like there’s much worth looking at,” Adam said, returning the gaze coolly.

“Maybe I’ll follow you into battle, then, and stare at  _ your  _ ass,” Ronan shot back.

Adam choked on a laugh. “Ronan!”

“Hey, just say the word,” Ronan said.

Adam met his eyes. Ronan stared back, meaning utterly transparent.

There was something exhilarating in having such power over a prince. But it was drowned out by the current that swept through him when he thought of Ronan deigning to expose his heart to him, Adam.

Then again, Ronan had already let Adam into his dreams. This wasn’t just risk; it was trust as well, and hope. And he had kissed Ronan, after all. Even if Ronan hadn’t kissed back yet.

He leaned forward and met Ronan halfway.

Ronan’s hand came up to wind in Adam’s hair, the other gripping the counter. Adam’s own hand rested against his neck, where Ronan’s pulse raced. They moved slowly against each other, careful, still dancing around each other, until the rest of the world was forgotten. Ronan’s tongue came out to sweep against Adam’s lip, and Adam nearly hauled Ronan half over the counter, something hot and bright in his stomach, mouth soft and slick against Ronan’s, and the shop bell rang.

Ronan’s stool thudded back to the floor, nearly knocking him off his perch. Both boys stared at each other, still nose to nose, stretched over the counter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Adam asked, breathless.

“Yeah,” Ronan said, grinning wider than Adam had ever seen.Then he pecked Adam’s forehead, leaving a wet smear of saliva, and ducked out of the shop.

Although he was not, strictly speaking, an actual tree, Adam spent the rest of the day feeling as if he were blooming. And when he saw Gansey, Blue and Henry off the next morning, Blue laughed at him.

+

“Are we there yet?” Henry asked.

Gansey struggled with a map. “I think that lake down there is this one right here, but I’m not sure.”

“They really should write down the names on these things,” Henry agreed.

“They do.”

“On the actual landscape, I mean.”

“What’s that down there?” Blue asked suddenly, leaning over the edge of the flying carpet.

“What’s what, Jane?” Gansey asked, pulling her back from the fall downwards.

“The forest. It feels odd.”

“Looks like a bunch of trees to me, no offence,” Henry said, peering in the same direction. “That carving in the hill is more interesting.”

“Well, I don’t know about hill carvings, but the forest feels familiar.” Blue wrinkled her forehead in thought. “And strange.”

“Does it feel urgent?” Gansey asked. “Because I really do want to see that festival, and this is the last night for it.”

“I guess we can come back,” Blue said. “Just mark it on the map.”

“Got it,” Gansey said, drawing a circle around the words ‘Cabeswater Forest’.

They flew on.


End file.
